


The Attack

by goddessofcheese



Category: Guild Wars, Guild Wars 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcheese/pseuds/goddessofcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic I mostly wrote for myself to explore what happened to my sylvari guardian at the end of Living Story season 2, just before Heart of Thorns</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Attack

Green as far as the eye could see.

No matter where Goldwyr stood on the bridge of the _Scorchrazor_ , she saw trees so dense and thick that the foliage below them might as well have been an ocean with leaves in place of waves. There were no birds or animals visible, and the only thing she could hear was the constant buzz of crew chatter overlapped by zeppelin machinery. All loud, all distracting, but she put them aside. At the moment, she was leaning over the ship's metal railing, wind tugging at the branches of her hair, straining to see if anything else was down there. Not even sure if she wanted there to be. But... nothing.

Not that anything that looked back would be remotely friendly anyway, but an increasingly disturbed part of her couldn't help but search.

Some of the sylvari soldiers were saying all the trees reminded them of Caledon Forest, but Goldwyr couldn't agree less. Caledon was filled with sunlight and open skies, brimming with colorful flowers and wide open spaces. It had its risks, of course, but overall her memories of it were bright. The jungle seemed only made up of shadows, mystery, and presumably danger. It gave her a weird feeling on her skin, crawling up her spine and settling on the back of her neck, leaving her stiff and tense. This forest was dark and uninviting.

Yet when she stared down into it she felt as though somewhere, just beyond the reach of her gaze, someone was staring back.

“Goldwyr?”

It was only a touch on her shoulder but it nearly sent her over the railing. With a hard gasp, she whirled on her heel instead, finding herself face to face with a now rather surprised-looking Trahearne.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently, offering her a hand in an apologetic gesture. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you."

Goldwyr's laugh was forced, but she smiled nonetheless. It was hard not to when the Marshal looked utterly embarrassed like that. "N-no. I'm completely fine!"

"You nearly fell over from fright just now."

"Well, besides that part."

He chuckled lightly before stepping forward and leaning over the edge with her. "Enjoying the view then, perhaps."

"Hm." Taking her place again on the rail, she leaned against him a little. If Artema were here, that big frowny charr would scold her for not being more respectful to the Marshal, but he'd never be anything but that tall odd scholar she and Derwyn had met back home in Caledon. That was only four years ago, she realized. It felt like an eon ago. So far away. She knew why Derwyn had to stay; he had to find the egg, and it wasn't like he wasn't able to take care of himself. He had that big stick to hit people. And magic. But still...

She didn't want to think about it and closed her eyes instead, murmuring, "Not exactly enjoying it."

"It's hard to blame you. Orr was infested and perverted, but even it did not quite hold the same aura of..." He pursed his lips, seemingly at a loss for the word to best describe his feelings, but Goldwyr nodded in complete understanding.

"Evil."

Trahearne nodded. "So you feel it too. Going up your body like ivy, prickling and stinging, right up into your forehead. Like an illness almost. I've been keeping note of those who have mentioned it to me."

Cataloged like a true scholar, of course. But he was right; she had felt it since coming to Dry Top and now the feeling of unease had followed her to the jungle. Derwyn had mentioned it with unease, saying it was keeping him up at night. She had chalked it up to him being nervous, but now...

"I'm not sure if it makes me feel better if others feel it too."

"You, myself, and others from the Grove." Only sylvari, the words going unsaid, but she sensed his unease grow. "It is... a cause for concern. Many of our medics are dealing with complaints. But--"

"But what?"

With a sigh, he shook his head; she could feel his stress, a soft and unhappy sensation sifting between them. "I find myself unsure about bringing it up with the other commanders. There has been uneasiness among soldiers from our people and those from other races. This close to the front, it would only stir an already boiling pot."

"That's not tr--!" But as quickly as Goldwyr came to the defense of the other races, memory gave her reason for pause. The refugees cursing Scarlet, like she was a plague and not a person. Aerin's gasping breath, his eyes wet and distant as she held his broken body, suffering with him. Whispers and narrowed eyes whenever the Grove's valiants walked bye in the Silverwastes. The longer the fight against Mordremoth had worn on, the less respect and friendliness she'd found among those not born of the Pale Tree. Not all of them, but enough to become noticeable. It hurt to even consider such thoughts! She had spent all her life on the road among other Tyrians of all origins. She'd never once encountered an unfriendly person who'd judged her unfairly by the hue of her bark or the pattern of her leaves.

But Scarlet had changed everything.

She bit her lip, and wished more than ever Derwyn were here with her. Maybe it was... maybe it was a mistake to seperate. It wasn't that she was some helpless sprout who couldn't defend herself. But he would've known what to say to comfort them both.

There was no silence between the two of them as they stood there at the railing; after all, any possible void of sound was filled up with the active engines, the chatter of soldiers, and the repetitiveness of her own anxious thoughts. But neither one of them spoke a word for a while, only sharing physical space and a shared stare at the jungle below. Goldwyr hoped the older sylvari found as much comfort in her presence as she did in his; she envied his calm exterior. He was so strong now. Still the scholar from back home but... something else, too. Eventually an aide drew him away and she retreated back into the belly of the ship. Some water would do her good, and it seemed a good idea to sleep a while.

So long as she wasn't near a window.

\---------------------------------

And then, like a match lit in the dark, she woke up.

It wasn't a desire to or even a need. It was a compulsion; she sat straight up, and before she even had a thought she realized her feet were swinging from the bunk and onto the floor. She reached for her hammer, carrying it loosely as if she might need it for... for something. But she didn't question the need for it and only continued to her destination. Soldiers were moving to and fro, walking around her as she moved unflinchingly forward. A few familiar faces, those she had been friendly with since before they'd left, called her name and waved. Their disappointment became visible however when she didn't even turn to glance at them. It didn't matter. She had to keep walking. The grip on her weapon tightened.

Where am I going? she wondered even as she entered a doorway and onto an open deck, open to the air but sheltered by another above it. Now she recognized where she was; she was on the floor of the ship that contained the armory. But she'd never been here, only knew it from those small maps in the hallway.

Why... why was she... 

A human seraph stood near a pile of what looked like explosives, packed carefully with warning labels all over. Their back was to her. Unsuspecting. Alone. At once, Goldwyr began to walk up to them, slowly so as not to warn them of her presence. She wanted the bombs.

Why?

She had to get them.

Why?

But this human would... would warn the others. Her hammer was heavy in her hand. She had to... had to... had to... Had to get rid of them.

No! I won't!

As son as the thoughts entered her mind, a sharp burst of pain in her head made her gasp and fall to her knees. The world was suddenly too bright; she covered her eyes, leaving her in darkness. All that she could see and feel were the stars forming from the pressure of her hands against her face.

What's wrong with me.

The pain returned, dragging on her body harder and harder. Everything felt stiffling, her vision became blurred, and even thought felt overwhelmingly difficult. Anger rose up in her chest, but just below it she was suddenly more afraid than she could remember being in her entire life. Afraid that she was dying. Or something even worse.

No! She wouldn't give up so easily! 

Clenching her fists so tight they felt white hot with pain, she slammed them on the metal deck. The reverberation shook up her arms, making her teeth rattle; blue flame grew around her in a circle, her magic reacting to her battle of wills in sparks and flickers. A few soldiers gathered around her, muttering and wondering what to do, but Goldwyr didn't hear them. Couldn't hear them. All she could focus on was her hands and where she was. If she tried to lose what grip she had, she somehow knew she would be lost.

"No," she whispered. It was only a single sound but it took all her strength to say it. Her voice grew louder and even more defiant with each word.

"No.. _No... No_!"

And then... nothing.

It was as if a great hand had been wrapped around her entire body, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing, and then suddenly relaxed its grip all at once. She drew breath in large gasps and finally let down her hands. Her eyes were watering terribly, but she could make out the shapes of the human and some other Pact soldiers all around her. Despite them all being from different races, she could see the concern and worry on each of their faces. And, with a small pang of her own worry, she could see the fear. 

"Are you... okay there, miss?" the Seraph finally ventured, offering her a hand up. It was the same human that she had felt compelled to kill only a moment earlier. Her hand shook when she took his offer.

"I... I'm not sure. Something is wrong. Very wrong." Goldwyr shook her head and stood on her feet, albeit with wobbling feet. "Where's... Where's the Marshal?"

"On the bridge, ma'am, with Destiny’s Edge" reported an asura in Vigil armor. "We're awaiting his orders."

Only a heartbeat after he spoke, the cannons shot down into the jungle. They all put their hands to their ears as the combined firepower of the entire Pact bore down on the trees below. The sounds of exploding gunpowder and shredding foliage left her head ringing even after the cannoneers paused.   
The silence was even more deafening though.

Goldwyr looked up and glanced to the human who'd helped her up. He was smiling nervously, though his masking expression couldn't hide the fresh sweat building along his neck and face. "Well. That wasn't--"

It was hard to say later what exactly happened next. Goldwyr didn't see the gigantic vines burst forth from the jungle, hiding among the trees like a kraken under the waves. She didn't even really hear when they struck, though survivors would describe it as a sound so sharp and powerful that they almost felt it before the real blow. But she would remember forever the split second of seeing the human's face turning to terror as the ship lurched upwards and sent them all flying from where they stood.

All of them landed awkwardly against the wall, and not entirely well. The asura who had been speaking only second earlier hit the metal with a sharp gasp, his head at an odd angle, and didn't get back up. The rest of them struggled as fast as they could to get on their feet just as the alarms began to howl, a charr's growling voice roaring over the intercom.

"Attack! Hands to all stations, we're under atta--"

The orders were cut off as all the windows on each side of the bulkheads exploded from some outside impact, a blur of green and brown that was gone as quickly as it had struck. Goldwyr threw up a magical shield, the blue bubble encasing her and those closest to her. A charr who had been running to grab a gun was not so lucky. Goldwyr looked away just as the shards hit him. But she had no time to mourn the poor stranger as she shouted commands to the three still left with her, the human and a norn in Whispers colors. 

"Rally to the Marshal up above!" she shouted, turning and pointing to the stairway. "Weapons and magic up! We have to..."

Her words fell short. A pale yellow sylvari was standing in the hallway, a small sapling she had met when in camp only a week or so ago. A sniper, wasn't he? Yes, he hadn the rifle in his hands. He'd been a friendly fellow. Calm. Quiet. Now... now he was shaking, hands gripping and releasing over and over. His eyes were so wide that the whites showed all around, the irises reduced to small dots. And they were... they were so bright. Bright and red.

And somehow she knew.

"Get away!" 

No sooner than she'd shouted the words, he shot her.

Time felt slow and unreal. She felt the bullets go through her side, the sensation registering to her mind before the pain hit her. And as she hit the deck, clutching the wound as it began to gnaw at her and spill golden sap, she was barely aware of the sounds around her. The norn howling like animals, or maybe she was the animal. The human's incantations as they summoned magic, the crack of lightning on metal. And some ungodly crack that at first she thought it was her own bones breaking, it resonated so loudly and deeply that it went through her whole body. But once she looked behind her, she saw the truth.

Ah. The ship was going down.

Part of the hull had been ripped clean off and now she witnessed their attackers through the hole it left; vines like those in the wastes, longer than she’d ever imagined and whipping through the trees like cobras. They struck with shocking accuracy. She watched in horror as another ship, the  _Salma's Glory_ , was ripped in half with a single blow. So many people. So many dead. 

This had all been a mistake.

Blackness crowded around her field of vision as she heard the norn fall, the seraph still fighting to save both their lives. The sylvari... screaming... howling like a monster...

...like a monster...


End file.
